​No where else in Spain is the influence of the country’s diverse history and converging cultures so apparent than in Andalucia. It’s a region many think of as traditionally Spanish, from Flamenco to bullfights, tapas to a vibrant late night culture. Around every corner, the combination of Moorish architecture with traditional Spanish buildings and plazas creates a unique sense of place. When you’re in Andalucia, you know it.

​Located in the southern part of the peninsula, Andalucia is the most populous autonomous community in Spain. The name, Andalucia, is derived from the Arabic word Al-Andalus and dates back to 716, just after the Moors took over Spain by defeating the Visigoths. Historically an agricultural region, it’s home to some of the best olive oil in the world. It’s also the hottest region in Europe, with average summertime highs of 97 °F in Sevilla and Cordoba. No wonder Andalucians are known for their siestas. 

We come here in the summer, so as we mention, it’s hot. Near the Portuguese border and just north of the Golfo de Cadiz, Sevilla is an elegant city that feels like an amalgamation of Spanish stereotypes. We arrive in the late afternoon, check in to our apartment in the Triana neighborhood along the west bank of the Guadalquivir River, and quickly get ready for a small-group Flamenco, food, and wine tour.

​The hills and mountains surrounding the valley have suddenly turned a brighter and deeper shade of green. The sky has also shifted, from muted greys with subtle blue hues, to a spectacular baby blue scattered with pillows of bright white clouds. The green fields are now strewn with the reds and yellows of wildflowers that have shot up from the fertile ground below. Spring came with a force in Lucca, our home of just six months, and after two months in quarantine we’re reminded of the multitude of reasons we chose to settle down in this little city in the northwest corner of Tuscany. 

​In the hour before sunset, the rice fields are magic. The golden light bounces off each long blade of grass, creating the illusion of soft waves in an emerald green ocean. Dragonflies swoop dramatically as farmers tilt their nón lá (leaf hats) off their head, no longer needing the shelter from the sun. Just five minutes away, the delightful chaos of Vietnamese motorbikes weave through ancient streets past vine-covered yellow buildings. The traditional market, alive with towering piles of fresh herbs, baskets of live crabs, bricks of white tofu and mounds of fresh noodles, flanks the side of the Thu Bồn River. It’s not difficult to fall in love here.

​The colorful, tiled buildings of Porto’s Ribeira neighborhood stand at attention, greeting the mighty Douro River as it passes through the city on it’s way east to the Atlantic. Ribeira’s cobblestone streets are packed with restaurants, small bars, and traditional shops, but it’s the Dom Luis I Bridge that crests high above the Douro and steals the show. 

​​It was early February. We were sitting in a bar in Hoi An, Vietnam, sipping a bloody mary, watching the superbowl without a care in the world, other than the 49ers defense. It was mid-way through our five week trip through Southeast Asia, where we were meeting activity partners and visiting boutique hotels to include in our Custom and Designed Trips. We were gearing up for a very busy 2020 - travel felt accessible and adventure was calling. 

Every family has different holiday traditions. For us, the first week of January is a time to sit down, bust out the 2020 calendar, and embark on one of our all-time favorite activities… planning (our!) travel for the year ahead.  Ever since we left our jobs and started this semi-unconventional, experience-focused life five (!) years ago, this has become our ritual - remembering trips from last year, dreaming up adventures for the year to come, and figuring out how to transform our travel dreams into a reality. 

​It’s been just over four weeks since we packed up our little Fiat and drove to our new home on the other side of the Mediterranean (well technically the Balearic and Ligurian) in Lucca, Italy. We know. A house in Tuscany sounds super romantic. But within two weeks of arriving, we had 6 feet of sewage pumped out of our front yard, no hot water or heat, and - after attempting to renovate our kitchen and bathroom at the same time (bold) - no running water and a hole in our stone kitchen wall that very closely resembled an archaeological excavation site. There has been more than one moment when we’ve longed for the ease of our rented apartment in Valencia, our trusty landlords just a phone call away, the ability to communicate, and a cafe table full of cheap wine, tapas and our wonderful friends to laugh with. But, even as we stood in the pouring rain, looking down at the almost overflowing tank full of raw sewage, trying to understand why the pump wouldn’t stop beeping, and later forking over nearly 1,000 euro for a new one, we’re confident that this crazy decision was a good one. 

​Introducing one of the world’s biggest travel myths: 

​We’ve certainly heard this sentence once or twice. Hell, we’ve even said it ourselves to justify paying a low hotel rate in a pricey destination. But wanting a great hotel (at any budget) doesn't make you high maintenance; it makes you smart. Because the truth is that where you lay your head down at the end of the day really matters, like a lot. In fact, it can easily make or break a trip. 

​Since moving to Spain three years ago, the two questions we receive more than any other are: “How did you do it?” and “How do you continue to make it work?”